


A Hammer and a Bell

by noxelementalist



Category: The Golem and the Jinni - Helene Wecker
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 3, Gen, Hippies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 04:38:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13756470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxelementalist/pseuds/noxelementalist
Summary: A Golem in Drop City





	A Hammer and a Bell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rebecca_selene](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebecca_selene/gifts).



> Set after the end of the book.

“It is…not what I expected,” Chava had told Ahmad when they had arrived, both of them dressed in the light cotton shifts that had become so popular among the young.

 _We_ are _young,_ she had reminded herself at the time. _At least, we look it._

Hiding the lack of aging had gotten easier over the years. The wars— one following the other, each horrible in ways that had made her bake loaves in rage for the ones left stranded, discarded behind in their wake— had also left precious few who remembered the Chava of New York. And those who met her seemed to soon forget her, content to sort her namelessly into their memories.

 

[This act made Chava wonder at times about the Rabbi who had made. Had he counted on this helpful forgetfulness? Or was it just a fortunate accident, like so many others in her life?]

 

Still she and Ahmad traveled. This time Ahmad had chosen where they would move, choosing this place by the promise of work and art and a nearness to the deserts Chava knew still called him.

“It will grow on you,” Ahmad had promised.

But Chava hadn’t been sure. What growth could come from houses of glass and bent metal?

 

 

 

 _At least now I know why they call it Drop City,_ she had thought to herself as they moved in.

The passing months had confirmed this instinct. Everyone was a tourist or an artist dropping into town, most of them part of the “hippie” movement there had lately been so much grumbling about. All had been overjoyed to engage Ahmed in discussions about metal-bending. All appreciated working with their hands, appreciated art and thought, and hated the spreading wars as much as she did.

Chava had almost changed her clothes’ plain colors into their spun pastels from pure sympathy.

“Girl, what is _up_!” came a shout into the dome where Chava and Ahmad had set up home (Ahmad had bent its frame late at night, tinting it copper for him and its windows blue for her while Chava had miraculously scrounged up matching furniture from among the artisans). “Isn’t life groovy?”

“It is good to see you Daisy,” Chava replied to the young girl standing in her doorway. Chava had only been in Drop City a couple weeks before Daisy had arrived, a chain of the flower wrapped around her head like a crown and a flowing pink tie-dye dress that flared around her feet in a pattern Chava had quickly learned was called psychedelic. Daisy had swept into the main city dome and announced that her spirit guide had called her here before she had seen Chava, shouted “sister!” and ran into her arms.

Three days later everyone believed it. They called Daisy “Chavaleh,” a fact that had left Chava wishing Sholem Aleichem had perhaps been a tad less popular.

“Peace,” Daisy whispered to Chava as she walked in.

“And Love,” Chava replied, having found that this was the reply she liked the most.

Daisy smiled. “So, like, I was having this most righteous morning meditation session when I realized that you and I should totally open up a, like, tea shop,” she began.

Chava followed her into the corner of her dome used as a living room (as much as a dome had corners, and whether they could had been a conversation between Ahmad and the smiths that made Chava incredibly glad _not_ to have to deal with the far more artistically inclined among them.) “What?”

“I _know_ , right? Just think of it!” Daisy said enthusiastically. “I could brew up herbal remedies and make wheatgrass cakes that would be so much better for everyone’s chi than all this coffee and doughnuts they keep getting from Boulder, and you could, like, show people all those awesome weavings of yours, and everyone would be like, at peace, you know?”

“It…could be very lovely.”

“Totally,” Daisy said. “So I’ll see which of the domes are free and then we’ll talk about it?”

“Alright,” Chava said. “By the way, have you had a chance to check in with Moonbeam yet?”

“I almost forgot!” Daisy said, eyes widening. “Thanks— I _totally_ owe you.”

Chava grinned. “You are welcome.”

Daisy laughed. “You know, from one golem to another, you are _so_ formal,” she teased.

Chava froze. “…the Rabbi who made me—”

Daisy waved a hand. “Say no more,” she said. “Those old-world Rabbis have a rep.”

“Didn’t yours?”

“Nah,” Daisy said. “A flower-child made me on her way out to San Fran last year so she wouldn’t travel alone. Once we got to her girlfriend’s she was safe and sound and didn’t really need me around much, but she didn’t wanna, you know, so she told me ‘Daisy, go out and spread the love.’ And I _do_ like to travel, so I did. And here I am— Drop City baby!”

“I-I see.”

“Yeah.” Daisy drawled. “Anyway, let me check in on Moonbeam and that dome, and then I’ll be right back to chat about our tea shop.”

“Bakery.”

“Hmm?”

“I- I also know how to bake,” Chava told Daisy absently.

“Right on,” Daisy crooned. “Well, be seeing ya- peace out!”

“Peace,” Chava called after her.

After a moment of silence Chava turned around, sat down on the couch that was the primary piece of furniture in their living room, and began to think about what it could mean that another golem, one so very different than her, so _young_ (even by golem standards!) had found her and Ahmed.

It was a meaning that discovering, she felt, was going to take a while.

**Author's Note:**

> Drop City was a real place, by the way: you can learn more [ here. ](http://www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drop_City)


End file.
